by BJ Hanlon
Slowly, the suppression lessened and Edin raised his hands toward the faltering torches of dematians and men. All were prone and on the ground now though still burning like night’s final wick.
Beyond them, more dematians were coming.
He felt the fires in his mind and let them grow.
Edin raised an arm and the fires exploded upward and turned into a wall of flame in front of the soldiers and the Por Fen. He pushed it outward heading up the valley like a forest fire toward the advancing dematians. These looked more orderly, more deadly.
He pushed it further from him and tried to make it expand.
Suddenly, someone pressed his shoulder.
“Wyrm!” Berka shouted in Edin’s ear and without thinking, Edin summoned another culrian shield. The men crowded around him as the blast came down. It struck and Edin winced. It wasn’t as heavy but it sapped him. Edin dropped to a knee and closed his eyes.
When Edin opened them, the wyrm had dropped to the empty space in front of Edin. It screamed, this close it was nearly impossible not to faint. But he couldn’t. And he didn’t.
To the left flank there was a great cracking of something. Edin saw in the gloom, giants heading their way. Two giants of stone. They were moving down the side of the mountain and behind them, Edin saw Rihkar.
The stone men swept their great arms through the dematian army like they were swatting pesky mosquitos.
The wyrm turned that way and Edin saw the glow of the yellow. It let loose its blazing lightning stream as Edin charged. The dematians in its path were torched, the large stone warriors paused and began to glow an orangish color. Edin spun his sword in front of him and twisted the dematian polearm. The wyrm’s eyes flickered in his direction as Edin was only a few feet away.
Edin jumped, he felt the wind rising beneath him and throwing him into the air. The wyrm snapped upward trying to snag him out of the sky.
It missed. Edin landed on its back. He flipped his sword upside down and stabbed.
The eluvrian steel sword penetrated barely an inch. The wyrm wiggled like a dog shaking water from its fur and Edin flew off.
He landed hard on his shoulder and bounced into bodies. His sword flew from his hand but he held the polearm. The wyrm spun around as two Por Fen began slashing at it.
It’s two legs were struck, with blades clinking off it.
One of the terrin Por Fen went for the head, a quick snap of the jaws took the man’s torso from his legs. Other men attacked.
Merik slid under the neck and tried stabbing up. The blade sunk in and stuck. Merik tried pulling it out when a giant leg went to snap at him. The Inquisitor let go and rolled out of the way. He stood up, facing the wyrm as the beast began its glowing yellow blast.
Edin felt the power in the beast’s mouth, he remembered Mersett’s power, the strength the old man had shown reflecting and blasting them out of the dungeons.
Edin was weakened, but he could do it. He knew he could do it. The wyrm screamed and Edin felt the electricity, the energy in the world surrounding him and the beast. He flipped the polearm into his right arm and hefted it over his shoulder like a javelin. He let the charge grow in him until he felt staticy. Edin felt like he were wired with millions of cups of coffee, yet even that didn’t feel right. Then he let it flow into the tip of the weapon.
Edin took aim and saw the wyrm ready to blast Merik through the next four lives. He grunted as he hefted the charged weapon.
The wyrm’s ball was growing and Merik didn’t move. He seemed resigned to his fate.
Then the horsehead knife blade slammed into the beast’s open mouth a moment before it tried to release the beam. The jaws snapped shut and the yellow glow grew between its lips.
Wide eyed, the wyrm flapped its wings. It made it about five feet from the ground when suddenly it exploded.
A concussive blast erupted and bits of light and wyrm guts exploded. They flooded over the bodies of the living and the dead from both sides. Edin stumbled backward and for a moment, he saw a glowing light on a faraway hilltop.
The dematian king.
16
Uneasy Alliance
Edin was not in chains when he woke. That was a good sign. He was drained as he stared up at the peak of the small austere tent. Army issue.
No one was around, no one greeted him as he woke. After a bit, Edin pulled his legs over the side of a cot and rested his head in his hands. To the left was a small basin with water. He cupped his hands and sipped. It was cold, like the air around him.
Standing on wobbly legs he felt muscles ache that hadn’t done so since his first time doing the Oret Nakosu. Edin hesitantly moved to the flap and pushed it back.
The camp was subdued. The sky was cloudy and the snow had stopped though it left the grass covered in the muted red, almost pink, of watered down blood.
“This way sir,” a voice called. It was a soldier standing guard next to his tent. He carried a large sword at his back and had the eye of someone who took more orders than he gave.
Edin glanced around almost waiting for a member of the Por Fen to slap irons on him. But no one seemed to be paying attention. There was no wan stone near him and his only guard didn’t seem to be keeping him prisoner.
“To where?”
“The command tent.”
Edin looked around trying to get his bearings. The bright tent was nowhere to be seen, then he remembered it’d been torched.
“The duke?” Edin asked. The man had the heraldry of Alestow, one of the duke’s direct men.
The man just shook his head and stomped toward the western mountain.
Large fires billowed black smoke to the east offering the smell of burning flesh. His stomach churned and he clenched his jaw. The memory of Glustown was still fresh.
They stepped over bodies and around carts filled with dismembered remains, some the deep black of dematians, others of men.
“How many died?” Edin asked.
The soldier kicked a dematian hand and it went flying off toward a green tent. “Last count was nearly three thousand.” The man shook his head but didn’t look back. “Three thousand men in thirty minutes…” His words trailed off.
Some people stared at him, most with fear in their eyes as if he’d turn and torch the lot of them just for looking. Men and the scattering of women stepped aside to give them ample room to walk. Edin could’ve hopped side to side if he wanted. Though that would be more energy than he wanted to expend at the time.
The guard stopped before a long tent that looked to have been cobbled together from two or three smaller ones. Two other guards stared from next to the closed tent flaps.
“Edin de Yaultan has awoken,” his escort said.
“He may enter,” one said too formally for Edin. Then he stepped to the side and pulled the flap back.
Edin stepped in the dark tent and heard voices. After a quick moment, his eyes adjusted and he saw a group of men standing around a makeshift table. Crates with a tablecloth on top.
On it, maps were cobbled together like this tent.
Merik caught his gaze first and looked away. To the right side he saw Rihkar, Berka, and a man he recognized. Lieutenant Elva.
Next to Merik were two other Por Fen, a couple of well-dressed noblemen. One wore a crown on his head. He slowly turned and Edin recognized him as Sinndilo. Edin stopped in his place.
The younger brother of the man he’d slain. He was the first to speak. “Master Berka…” he said with a cold smile, “or is it truly Edin.”
Edin paused. “It is Edin.”
“Do not be alarmed,” Sinndilo said as if reading his mind. “I have to say it is good for humanity that you slayed my brother.”
Edin shifted uncomfortably. The new duke was probably Edin’s age and now the ruler of a giant state.
Sinndilo raised a hand. “I know what Sandon was and who he was. You do not want to know what it was like growing up with him.”
“My lord,” Merik said.
“Yes Inqu
isitor?”
“The dematians.”
Sinndilo lowered his eyes. “Yes…” then he looked back at Edin and waived him forward.
Edin looked at the map, a large swatch of red ran from the sea just south of Glustown all the way up and into the unknown wilds of the northwest. It spread south over the mountains and down into Porinstol and northern Resholt to the Halecon Lake. Yaultan was gone.
Edin tensed, his fist clenching.
“Much of Resholt was evacuated to Aldenheim and Calerrat,” Berka said stepping forward from the crowd. He wasn’t wearing the black robes of the Por Fen anymore and his head and chin were covered with red stubble.
Merik stepped forward and shot an angry look at Berka. His old friend didn’t seem to notice. “Aldenheim is under siege. We’ve received word by ship but we cannot break them free. No army can.”
Edin looked at Rihkar. “There may be one…”
Rihkar nodded. “I will go, Dorset is looking for passage at the docks.”
“We have sent envoys to the southern islands, if they’re not too busy cutting each other’s throats we may be able to get an army…” Sinndilo said.
“Pirates, thieves, and abominations,” Merik shook his head. “This is what our great civilization has come to.”
Rihkar glared but didn’t respond. “I don’t know if it’ll be enough to push them back… we could stop them, hold them for a while but there are reports of other wyrms out there. You saw how strong the thunderwyrm was. We are want for allies.”
Edin closed his eyes as the word was said. It kicked loose the prophecy in his head. “Those who have once before, must again be allied.”
“What was that?” Sinndilo said.
“A prophecy… it tells who we need to ally with.”
Sinndilo raised an eyebrow and glanced at Merik and then at Edin. “There are no other men we can count on… we probably can’t even count on the islanders.”
“What does that mean?” Merik said. “Who do you mean?”
Edin swallowed. “The elves.”
Book 5: The Echoes of Destiny
1
The March South
Leaving directly to find the elves did not happen. Edin saw that as soon as he said elves the rest of the brain trust believed he’d gone crazy.
“Elves are all gone from this land,” said Sinndilo aghast, despite having just battled a dematian army. He tried during the Convocation, the term someone had come up with for their little council.
Edin felt they needed to be found sooner rather than later though he didn’t tell the others in the leadership where to look. He’d promised the woman elf he would not. And he’d keep that promise as long as he could.
What he wanted to do was find Arianne. He needed to do that, but with the army around and him not being ‘dismissed’ he stayed. It was painful every day.
All two of the days and during their stay were in the lee of the mountain. They buried their dead and burned the dematian bodies. The smell from the burning pit was as wretched and noxious as anything he’d ever dared to smell.
Some of the generals and higher ups began talking of a wall that was to be built. A great wall to stop the dematians invading from the north.
But not here, this battlefield was tainted according to a Vestion Priest who glared with all the righteous hate he could muster at Edin and Rihkar.
They slowly marched south along a winding dirt road between a forest, the sea, and hillocks. Edin felt the tension in the air as he marched behind Merik and between Rihkar and Berka. Theirs was a small group and he constantly saw the evil and angry looks from the other soldiers. Despite slaying the wyrm and saving them, they hated him.
The caravan supposedly wound back ten miles, thousands of troops as well as their attendants, servants and help. Then there was also the taggers-on. They usually took up the back.
The road cut through a dense forest with thick undergrowth that held gave to Edin, a haunted feeling.
The first night after they left, they’d camped on the road. Edin had an army-issue tent that he could’ve slept in, however, it was issued to a man who’d fallen in battle days before. Edin didn’t want to sleep in that. Above him, through the barren trees, the late winter moon floated across the sky.
Fires and watches were set as Edin sat down around the fire with Elva, Rihkar, and Berka. The Por Fen were near, as was the young duke and his retinue. His guards kept a wary eye on Edin and Rihkar. No one was too excited to have magi in their midst. Even if the magi had slayed the wyrm and probably saved all of their lives.
“Anyone have whiskey or ale?” Edin asked as he finished the salted pork. It was a decent enough dish for a group of army cooks, especially ones that had thousands of troops to feed. The one who’d served Edin, a thin man with spectacles and an awkwardly trimmed beard wasn’t thrilled about sloshing food on Edin’s plate.
His friends shook their heads. No one else answered. Edin glanced back at a group of soldiers huddled around a different fire ten feet away. They were quiet, and half of them were staring at Edin as if he were a meal. Then, as he looked over, they decided to take a more detailed interest in their meals.
“Hey,” Edin called, “anyone have some whiskey, ale, or wine? I’m not picky.”
Someone snorted and people whispered. A thick man with a bushy beard turned and glared. “I’d share, but not wanting to get your taint on my drink is a high priority” then he muttered, “ya evil blotard.”
Edin felt a slight twang of anger as he locked eyes with the man. Then he noticed more people glaring at him, waiting for him to do something. Despite Sinndilo’s proclamation that he was to be unhurt, Edin had the uneasy idea that one or two would try something against him or one of his mates soon.
Very soon.
Edin didn’t want that, and he certainly didn’t want to start a fight in the middle of the road with hundreds mundane soldiers on either side of him ready to take up arms and slay the abomination.
He knew they were just waiting for him to do something stupid. Something that would give them the go ahead to kill him. Or they could try.
Something stupid, Edin thought, he remembered back to his early childhood and what he’d do when Dexal or one of the bully’s cronies would insult him. Edin let a grin rise on his face.
“I know you are, but what am I.”
Berka roared to laughter as others snorted trying hard not to join in. Thick beard seemed to grow red in the firelight.
A few minutes later, the laughter died, but Edin was still want of a drink.
“What are we, five again?” Berka asked.
“I was going for seven…” Edin answered. Rihkar and Elva were grinning over their small fire. “But I’ll take five.”
They grew quiet again. “Where’s El?” Edin asked. He’d been so busy he forgot about their group and about the family.
“They went with Baron Tolson down to Carrow… along with the Foci.”
“How’d that work out?” Edin asked hesitantly.
“I hope it went well.” Berka shifted and looked slightly uncomfortable. “Those are some good people, despite what these northern blotards say.”
“And El? Is she good people?” Said Edin. He was quite curious about their relationship.
Berka grinned and grew redder. His ginger hair and stubble began to blend into his face.
“Is that why you left the Por Fen?”
Berka nodded. “She’s a good person, Edin. She’s beautiful and funny and—”
“Just as ginger as you are,” Edin interrupted. “So, she wouldn’t be shocked by the fire in your pants.”
Berka slugged him in the bicep, but he was grinning. “She wasn’t shocked…” Berka said sheepishly.
Edin laughed and patted Berka on the back. “I get it, birds of a feather, right?”
Then his mind went to Arianne, as it did so often. The respite from thinking about her was gone. The night before he couldn’t sleep. He saw her in that dark place, in the d
ark river, and tonight he doubted he’d be able to sleep unless he could somehow swipe a bit of booze.
“Edin? Are you okay?” Rihkar said from across the fire.
Edin blinked and looked up. There was concern on his old man’s face. Edin nodded because he didn’t trust his voice to say anything.
“Let’s get some sleep. We need to be at the pass the day after tomorrow.”
Edin nodded and laid on his cloak. He wasn’t going to use a dead man’s bedroll either. Though Rihkar had thoughtfully pointed out that he’d basically lived in a dead dwarven city for a week or so in the not so distant past. Edin grunted at that thought as he stared up at the stars. He closed his eyes as visions of Arianne came to him. He thought of the fake world in which they got engaged and wondered if that dream, that devilishly good nightmare, was the only time they’d ever do it.
Edin rolled over and buried his head in the crook of his arm and tried to sleep.
There were no dreams. Nothing that said she was alive and well somewhere and when he woke, he was worried. Panicked almost. Edin closed his eyes and tried to somehow—no real idea how—to summon her, to connect with her.
Nothing happened and it was worse than not sleeping.
They moved on in the morning, his legs dragged down the road as he stared off into the distance keeping her in his mind’s eye. He thought of their mission and the current plan they were following. The continent was too large, and to try and move armies to meet the dematians who moved and attacked at night would give the enemy the advantage. They needed a way, at the very least, to stem the flow of these demonic beasts of the underworld from running wild over the lands and slaughtering everyone.
The duke and his general had their plan: If they could cut off the eastern flank of the dematian’s attack, they could focus attention to the west and maybe even send aid to Galara. There’d never been a wall like this planned before, one from the Crady Mountains to the Crimson Ocean, and the task was enormous.
In the army, much of whom were drafted for the assault on the Isle of Mists, Duke Sinndilo was able to find lumberjacks, architects and builders to begin the job. They had begun planning by looking at the best locations. Shortest and flattest distance as well as the most material. After a day of arguing, they decided.
